Of Comfort
by AGENT Kuma-chan
Summary: There are soft snores coming nearby and she thinks of classes, of light spilling through windows, of dust figures and sleeping heads, of how much has changed. Raine, mentions of the group.


**Title: ****of** comfort  
**Day/Theme: **Oct 23 // As if tired from their pilgrimage  
**Series: **Tales of Symphonia  
**Character/Pairing: **Raine, mentions of Genius and the others. If you are looking for it and squint extremely hard, there's some Raine/Kratos.  
**A/N: **My first stab at this fandom--I don't quite like this one as much. I just gave up after a while of trying to fix it. Maybe I should just do a scene next time.

Any repetition, by the way, is on purpose.  
**Excerpt: **_There are soft snores coming nearby and she thinks(of classes, of light spilling through windows, of dust figures and sleeping heads, of) how much has changed._  
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There are few comforts taken on this journey. Most of it is filled with sweat, sweat and tears and blood and grime that seem to seep into the skin, soaking it thoroughly. Washing doesn't remove it, just makes the layers clearer to see, and she almost wants to study her own skin, to see the truths and history that lie hidden there.

Beds are either the hard ground or the stiff churches, the meals are quick affairs. Supplies are used sparingly (who knows how long they had to last?) and heavy packs that break the back just as hard as the long hikes break the spirit.

Nothing hurts as much as Krato's betrayal had, of the realization that everything was based on lies and deceit, webs of illusions ensaring the fly. It was easy after to look back at his cryptic actions, to see the points where history could have been changed and the future diverted. It was easier to think of his words and believe that maybe not everything was fake, that there were drops of truth scattered on the path.

Lloyd took it the hardest but he had admired the strong man, had found a challenge to pass in his swift movements and sorrow-tinged wisdom.

Nothing had worried her as much as Colette (clutzy, shy Colette that was easily one of her better students) becoming a still doll, a familiar form without the face she knew. She had been a pawn, a package, and hadn't minded it in the least.

(Raine thinks of Genius and his first crush, a girl of power and metal and reason, and thinks this will hurt too, in a similar but different way. She remembers his frightened face, his old eyes, the things he saw and heard years too early (elves are wise but there is childhood and that is supposed to be innocent) and knows that this will cut her as well.)

-x-

They travel in this not-Sylvarant, in this world like their's in all the tiny ways that she shouldn't notice. Then again, she has always looked beyond the surface, into corners better left forgotten and tales long lost, so it is no surprise that she is the only one who notices.

The monsters here are like their's, only inverted and twisted, the negative of a photo, and maybe this is evolution but she never studied that. Seas are complete with the rocking motion that sets her off, making her green, and here half-elves still have to dodge insults and dirty looks. Forgotten arts and unusable technology exists in this land and she has to wonder which world is the original and which is the copy.

(There are so many similarities that if she closed her eyes, she could pretend she had never left. But she's a historian, an archeologist and she has never seen the present and the past is always a faded memory to her.)

There are soft snores coming nearby and she thinks(of classes, of light spilling through windows, of dust figures and sleeping heads, of) how much has changed. How they all have changed (with wise eyes and weary bones and constantly mending wounds, some in places that no one can see).

They are all still children, even Sheena and Regal, and they don't stir at the rising sun. A weary look has settled on all of their faces, effects of tireless walking and fighting and running (from destiny and dreams, from people and power). Even Lloyd, now knowing just what has to be done, frowns in his sleep.

Understanding doesn't always come with relief but she gives them another hour of curled hands and warm breathing, of snores and the soft light of the fire, (_of comfort_) before she wakes them up.

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End file.
